


Uncle Cas

by Lusciousinpain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn with Feelings, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2182320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lusciousinpain/pseuds/Lusciousinpain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No, what Dean wants, what he craves and has always needed is someone that will take the time to tear and break him apart with their hands and mouth and then care enough to put him back together with a warm caress, or a loving word. </p><p>Just like uncle Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncle Cas

**Author's Note:**

> I set out to write a short fluffy-heavily-porn-laced tale of a lecherous uncle and his nympho nephew. But alas, it turned angsty, then porny, then confrontational, with lots more porn.  
> Please let me know if I done good! And, thanks for reading!!!  
> Oh, and FYI, if you're interested in the porno Dean's jacking off to, The Head Nurse, well have I got a treat for you!

The incessant ringing of their bedroom telephone startles John and Mary Winchester awake from their deep slumber.

Mary reaches for the phone, feeling for it blindly, she knocks over the book she was reading and her children’s picture frame. “Hello.” She answers, finally silencing the obnoxious blare, voice a sleepy croak, eyes still closed, body cocooned in warmth. “M-hum…yes.” she mutters, more alert now. “Yes, I will. No…right away…me too.” She ends the call and sets the phone back in its cradle.

“What is it?” John asks, pulling his wife back under the covers, tone worried, dreading the news - _Because let's face it, no one ever calls with good news at one in the morning_.

Mary sits up instead and turns to face her husband, bottom lip caught between her teeth, large green eyes full of sorrow. “It’s your father, sweetheart, he’s had a stroke.”

…

“John, calm down. Here, let me do that.” Mary says, tone soothing, gently prying the handful of underwear he’d been trying to pack from his tight grip. He struggles with them a moment longer, a halfhearted attempt to fold them neatly into his suitcase, before giving up and crawling back to bed. “Thanks, baby.” He sighs, shoulders shaking from the stress, head cradled in his hands.

“Fuck, Mary,” he says a minute later. “Who are we going to get to watch the kids at-” he looks over to the clock on his nightstand. “One-thirty in the goddamn morning?”

Mary pauses in her packing and considers his question for a moment. “My brother?” she answers hopefully.

 _Of course, Castiel._ Mary misses her brother terribly and sees this as the perfect, although unfortunate, opportunity to reunite her wayward brother with her family, _his family._

“That flake? Hell no!”

“John, please, you’re being unfair. Cas-“

“I know!” John cries, snapping his fingers, then jumps off the bed and reaches for his smart phone. He does a quick scroll through his listings and fist pumps the air when he finds the contact he's after. “Naomi, yesss.”

“Naomi, from down the street? You seriously want that drill sergeant to watch our children, John. Did you forget how much Dean dislikes her?”

“Now who’s being unfair?” he asks. “And she’s not a drill sergeant. She’s just a little…overzealous when it comes to doling out discipline.”

Mary’s brows shoot up in disbelief. “Overzealous? Is that what you’re calling it?” she challenges, voice rising, hands planted on her rounded hips, huffing irritably when all she gets from her bull-headed husband is a smirk and a half shrug. “Making Dean read the bible from cover to cover, out loud, when he refused to let her punish Sam is tantamount to child abuse, John.” She argues. “She traumatized both of them, Adam too, the poor little thing.”

“Okay, okay.” John relents. “I won’t call her. She’s out. But that still leaves us without a sitter. Oh, wait!” he blurts, snapping his fingers again. “I know. How about, Chuck?”

“Hmpft, no.”

“What, why?”

“John, you can’t honestly think I would leave my children in the care of that alcoholic.”

“Recovering alcoholic.” He corrects.

“No.”

After another long pause, John fists pumps the air again. “Missouri! I know you like her and the kids love her. So, problem solved.” He dials her number, confident she won’t mind the hour when he gives her his reasons for bothering so late.

“Hi, Missouri, it’s John Winchester, I’m sorry to bother you but we have a real emergency here…oh, Florida?” he turns wounded eyes towards his wife and sighs tiredly. “I know…me too. No, no. Please…okay, you too.” 

John drops gracelessly back onto their bed and groans. “Damn it, she's in Florida.”

Mary doesn’t show it, but she’s relieved that their dear friend won’t be available. “Oh honey, that’s too bad.” She says with all the sincerity she can muster. “Hate to say it, but it looks like we don’t have much of a choice.”

John cracks an eye open and scowls at his wife.

“John,” Mary huffs. “He’s not the same man he was seven years ago, he’s…matured.” 

“Matured? That’s your definition of a twenty-seven year old that’s still jobless. That for all we know still parties, drinks and smokes like it’s his career?” he counters. “You forget how attached Dean got to him the last time he stayed with us? How Castiel promised to visit all the time, attend all of his games. He even made plans to take Dean camping and then he just picked up a left? Dropped off the face of the earth. Our son was inconsolable, Mary.” It's an old argument between them, and John's not above bringing it back up. “You just don’t do that to a twelve year old.”

“I agree with everything you’ve said, John. I was just as upset as you are, but he’s changed and wants to make amends, especially to Dean.”

“What, with a bunch of useless trinkets from his trip to Tibet? Hmph,” he snorts. “Gotta do better than that if he really wants to get back in my good graces, let alone Dean’s. Why, as soon as my boy realized all that junk was from your brother, he chucked it.”

Mary climbs on the bed and settles against her husband’s side. “Come on honey, Castiel _is_ family and he’s also _only_ an hour away.” she leans closer and places a small kiss on his temple. “’Want me to make the call?”

John props himself up on his elbows and regards his wife for a moment, eyes darting around for an alternative. “Fine, call _uncle Cas_. Doesn’t really matter anyway, I’m sure Dean will insist on taking care of Sammy and Adam himself. Our boy is one stubborn-as-hell seventeen year old.” He huffs, amused and more than a little impressed by his oldest son. “So I guess all we really need your brother for is to make sure the house doesn’t burn down.” He notes, then adds, “What could go wrong?”

…

Dean’s still wide awake when his parents learn of his grandfather’s stroke.

He’s surfing the web and arguing good-naturedly, via text, with a few of his buddies over their weekend plans, intermittently pausing in his searches to shoot off replies when his eyes land on one of his favorite porn sites.

 **Dean:** im chkng out asshls. Nite.

Impatiently palming at his growing erection and way too distracted to read his friends’ varying retorts, Dean grabs his laptop and relocates to his bed.

With his back propped against the headboard, Dean eases his threadbare sweats off his hips, wraps one hand around his rapidly hardening dick and scrolls with the other through an assortment of free porn, finally clicking ‘play’ on his current favorite, ‘ **The Head Nurse** ’.

“Fucking jackpot.” The teen whispers gleefully, placing his laptop carefully between his spread knees and leaning over the edge of his bed for the bottle of lube he keeps tucked under his mattress. He squeezes a generous amount in both hands and begins stroking himself.

He starts slow, rhythm languid, unhurried, a sensuous drag and pull, teasing the head with one hand while fondling his balls with the other. “Umpht…” he groans, hips jerking into his fist, fingers dipping from his balls to his crevice, eyes glued to the video, mirroring the Nurse as he meticulously preps his patient’s hole, loosening it with skillful fingers.

 _‘How does that feel?’_ Porno Nurse asks his patient, grinning wickedly while he scissors his patient’s pink puffy pucker with lube coated fingers.

 _‘Jee-zus!’_ The patient cries and bucks, hips squirming in pleasure, bare ass crinkling and bunching the exam table’s roll-out paper.

Dean moans too, mouth slack, eyes half-cast, dick thrusting steadily into the loose tunnel of his fingers, biting down _hard_ on his lip when he inserts a slicked digit into his hole, pace quickening, pumping furiously in time with the Nurse’s rhythm.

“Fuck-“ he gasps, almost there when Porno Nurse wraps his sinful lips, _lips that magically take on the_ _pink plushness of Dean’s long ago crush_ , around his patient’s rigid shaft.

“Ahhh…” Dean moans, on the brink, watching Porno Nurse bob his head up and down while his patient tangles needy fingers through his dark messy hair, _hair that painfully resembles a past beloved’s_ _unruly locks._

But it’s when Porno Nurse deftly replaces his pumping fingers with his massive cock and then proceeds to ram it mercilessly into his patient’s ass, filling Dean’s room with the pornographic sounds of skin slapping wetly against skin, that Dean tumbles over the edge and cums, eyes rolling back, mouth open in a silent cry.

…

Fifteen minutes later, and after a perfunctory clean up, Dean’s snuggled under a mountain of blankets, thoroughly satisfied, sleepy, and for the most part, happy. Or at least that’s what he tells himself, unable to stop the heavy weight of insecurity, tangled with a healthy dose of self-loathing that coils itself tightly around his heart every time he invites images of his uncle, Castiel, into his fantasies.

“Fucker!” he curses, throwing his arm over his face, pushing back a multitude of gut wrenching memories that threaten to overtake him at vulnerable moments like these, tugging open old wounds, confounding his muddled mind, tearing at his heart.

A soft knock on his door saves him from spiraling down further.

“Dean? Son, are you awake?” John asks softly, cracking the door open and inch, waiting for his son to respond.

“Sure, dad. What’s up?” Dean answers, more than a little impressed with the steadiness of his voice.

John steps in, but doesn’t close the door. He stares down at his feet for a beat before looking over to his son and says, “Dean, I’ve got some terrible news. Your grandpa, Henry, had a stroke. He’s stable now, though.” He quickly adds. “But your mom and I are leaving in a little bit to go see him. Make sure he’s okay.”

“Geesh, dad, I’m sorry. And don’t worry about anything, I’ll hold down the fort.” Dean hops out of bed and rushes to his father, opening his arms to wrap them around his father’s grief slumped shoulders.

“I know you will, son, but, ah, you won’t have to, your uncle Castiel is on his way. Your mother called him a short while ago and he agreed to stay with you boys until we return-“ John explains, the words coming out like an apology.

“What? No!” Dean immediately protests. “We don’t need that douche here! Why’d mom call him?” he whines.

“I know, trust me, I understand how you feel.” John insists, resting his large hand on his son’s shoulder. “But it’ll only be for a couple of days. And besides, it’s not fair to leave Sam and Adam’s welfare solely on your shoulders, son. You have your own schoolwork and sports, your friends and your life to live, Dean. Castiel will just be here as a…back up for you.” he clarifies, patting Dean on the shoulder and giving it one last squeeze before turning to leave.

“Don’t worry too much over it, Dean. This is your house and you’re the boss here. You set the rules, okay. You show Castiel you’re not some little kid he can boss around anymore.” He offers encouragingly, adding a wink and small smile, before walking out the door.

“No!” Dean cries out once his father’s out of earshot. He goes back to his bed, flops heavily onto its soft surface and reaches out for an armful of pillows to stifle his screams.

_I can’t believe he’s coming back!_

John says he understands, but how can he? It’s taken Dean the better part of five years to get past the heartache of his first doomed crush. His first love.

How could his father possibly understand that five years is barely enough time for a young boy to accept the fact that his love will forever remain unrequited?

That it took Dean that long to learn how to function with a broken heart, always walking around pretending that he’s whole, optimistic and healthy, coming to terms with the fact that his _dear old_ _uncle_ _Cas_ will never feel for him, what he feels for the older man.

“Fuck my life.” He groans into his pillows. “Not this time, though.” He vows. “This fucker isn’t fucking me over again. No fucking way.” he hisses, swearing aloud, pummeling his pillows with a barrage of fists as he braces for Castiel’s arrival.

…

“John, Mary, it’s so good to see you.” Castiel says in a quiet voice, putting his bag down in the Winchester foyer and reaching out to pat his brother-in-law on the shoulder. “John, I’m so sorry about your father.”

“Hey there, Cas. Thanks.” John replies, leaning into the younger man’s hand and giving him a thorough once-over. “And thanks for coming on short notice. We, ah, really appreciate it.”

“Please, it’s no problem.” Castiel insists stepping around John to wrap his sister in a tight embrace. “Mary, I’ve missed you.” he sighs into her soft blonde hair.

The siblings hold onto each other tightly, rocking in each other’s arms for a long moment before pulling apart. “You haven’t changed one bit.” Castiel beams at her.

Mary takes a step back to appraise her younger brother, and nodding approvingly, says, “Cassie, honey, you _have_ changed. You look so handsome, and well, honestly…respectable.” She confides, holding him at arm’s length and smiling widely.

“You really do.” John reluctantly agrees, referring to Castiel’s white button-up and dark slacks, easily preferring this ensemble over his past uniform of torn jeans and band t-shirts. Impressed that his brother-in-law has finally managed to tame the dark tangled mess that was once his hair and not even faulting the younger man for the heavy layer of stubble dotting his jaw. _It’s not like the kid was going_ _to shave before coming over,_ he reasons.

Castiel drops his eyes, blushing from their praise. “Heh, um, thanks. I’m really glad you called. I just wish it was under different circumstances, of course.” He immediately adds, glancing towards John. He looks over to Mary, blue eyes wide and nervous. “Does Dean…ah, I mean, do Sam and Adam, the boys, I mean, do they know I’m going to be staying with them?” he stammers and coughs, voice deep and husky.

“Dean does, I told him a little while ago.” John answers. “I didn’t tell Sammy or Adam, though, didn’t want to wake them, as much as Mary wanted to. Never be able to get them back down if we did.” He clarifies, laughing fondly. “Well,” he turns to his wife. “We better get going. And, thanks again, Cas.”

“I spoke with Dean too, Cassie, and he’s really happy you’re here.” Mary lies. “And I’m sure Sam and Adam will be just as excited.“ She reaches out, throws her arms around Castiel’s shoulders once more, and chokes back a sob. “Take care of my babies, okay.” She weeps, pressing a small kiss against his cheek. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge, but if you need anything, put it on our account.”

“I’ve left all of our contact info on the kitchen counter but if you need anything else, help with Sam or Adam, or the household, just ask Dean. He pretty much runs the place anyway.” John adds, and with a final handshake, grabs their bags and guides his sobbing wife out the door.

…

Dean stumbles out of bed the following morning, mind fuzzy and groggy from lack of sleep, eyes swollen and crusty from tears he _absolutely did not shed._

“Fuck, dammit.” He curses under his breath, lurching unsteadily towards his bedroom door, remembering the reason for his aching head and his heavy eyes.

When he steps out into the hallway, he’s immediately hit with the enticing scent of…

_Bacon_

“Fucking asshole.” He grouses, mumbling a litany of curses as he makes his way to the bathroom.

He walks into the kitchen twenty minutes later, heart screeching to a fucking halt the second his eyes land on Castiel. He doesn’t move for a long while, actually has to brace himself against the wall to keep from swaying. He stares at the older man, unseen and quiet, marveling at his uncle’s body, how it’s filled out, how his long lean muscles dance under his pale blue shirt and the way his dark trousers hug the full globes of his ass and the thick muscles of his thighs.

“Outta the way, Dean.” Sam snaps, bumping his shoulder against Dean’s waist to nudge him out of the kitchen’s doorway. “What’s wrong with you- uncle Cas!!!” he screams at the top of lungs when he spots the older man.

“Oomphft! Sam!” Castiel grunts and chuckles, a deep throaty laugh that makes Dean want to do things.

Things like throw his uncle up against the nearest wall so he can feast on each and every gorgeous little sound he can wrench from those delectable lips.

Or perhaps run rough angry fingers through his neatly combed hair until it once again resembles the sex-wreaked look he sported so effortlessly, all those years ago.

But to simply have the freedom, the goddamn right, to bury his face in Castiel’s neck, to inhale and taste the fragrant skin, and then break down and cry over so many wasted years spent apart, _that,_ Dean realizes, would be the one thing he would most like to do to the man in front of him.

“What the heck are you doing here?” Sam asks, over excited, eyes alight with joy and fondness for his uncle, mercifully snapping Dean from his painful memories.

Castiel runs his hand affectionately over Sam’s hair, tucking a long strand behind his ear. “Sam, I-“ he starts but then stops when he looks up and sees Dean, blue eyes darkening the moment they lock onto his oldest nephew’s. After a brief, but epic battle, he tears his eyes from Dean’s glare and turns back to Sam. “Your mother and father called me last night and asked me to come and stay with you for a few days.”

“Why?” the thirteen year old asks, brow furrowed with curiosity.

“Sammy,” Dean speaks up. “Come here buddy.”

Sam gives Castiel a questioning look and then walks towards his brother.

When he’s within arm’s reach, Dean pulls him close and hugs him tighter than necessary, eyes drawn magnetically back to Castiel’s, smirking in satisfaction from the fear and remorse he sees looking back.

“Dean, dude, you’re wrinkling the merchandise.” Sam complains and struggles out of his brother’s hold.

Dean lets go and bends at the waist, and looking steadily into his younger brother’s hazel eyes, says, “Grandpa Henry’s not well, Sammy, so mom and dad left last night to go take care of him for a little while.”

Sam’s eyes grow large and glassy. “Will…will he be okay?” he asks in a small scared voice, lower lip trembling.

“Of course he is. It’s grandpa Henry we’re talking about here!”

Sam sighs in relief, body visibly relaxing from the confidence in his brother’s tone. “Whew, man, for a minute there, you had me worried.”

“Nothing to worry about, bro.” Dean assures, ruffling his younger brother’s hair and messing it up further. “Go grab a seat while I get you some cereal.”

“Dean, Sam, I’ve made pancakes.” Castiel chimes in, voice a little too bright, eyes focusing on Dean. He walks over to the table and sets down a plate piled high with pancakes. “Ah, there’s bacon too.” He adds, sounding hopeful.

Dean stares at the spread, hands clenched tightly against his sides, breathing deeply to calm the hammering of his heart before trying to speak. “No thanks, Sammy and Adam have cereal weekdays, and-“

“Are you nuts?” Sam squeaks. “I don’t know about you, but I’m having uncle Cas’ pancakes.” He declares defiantly and much to Dean’s growing irritation reaches out to serve himself a large stack of the warm fluffy goodness and coats it liberally with a thick layer of gooey strawberry syrup.

“Whoa, pancakes!” a small voice next to Dean whoops happily.

“Good morning Adam.”

“Uncle Cas!” the smallest and youngest Winchester shouts in surprise, rushing past Dean to throw himself at his dearly missed uncle. When he pulls back, he narrows his eyes and purses his lips. “Where have you been? We missed you so much! Me and Sammy, but especially Dean, he cried and-“

“Adam!” Dean shouts, mortified, cheeks reddening, cutting off his brother’s painfully honest rambling. “Get your ass over here and get some breakfast. Your bus is gonna be here soon, slow poke, and I am not driving you if you miss it!”

The eleven year old grudgingly steps away from his uncle’s side and drags his sneaker clad feet to take the seat Dean pulls out for him.

“Eat up you two. And you better be ready by the time I get back.” Dean warns, and turns to leave.

“Dean-“ Castiel’s arm shoots out, long fingers wrapping around Dean’s muscled forearm. “Aren’t you eating?” he asks, voice dry and raspy, swallowing hard, tongue poking out to swipe moisture across his lips.

Dean freezes, eyes following the slicked path of Castiel’s tongue, arm tensing under his tight grip. “I’m not hungry.” He grits out, pinning the older man with a venomous glare. He wrenches his arm free and staggers back, barking a final warning to his brothers before storming out of the room.

…

Dean runs back to his bedroom, clambering up the stairs, taking three steps at a time, desperate to put as much distance as he can between himself and his tormentor.

He slams his door behind him, panting, hand clutching at this chest, wondering if it’s possible for a perfectly healthy seventeen year old to die from a heart attack, jumping out of his skin when there’s a firm knock against his back.

“Dean,” Castiel calls. “Please, open up.”

 _Too fucking late, douche bag!_ Dean thinks, but instead says, “Look, no offense, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t hang around my door, okay. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Dean…” Castiel starts, uttering his nephew’s name softly, almost a sigh. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Dean doesn’t budge, doesn’t move from his spot, barely breathes until Castiel’s footsteps fade away, whooshing in relief once he’s sure the coast is clear.

He’s furious, offended, hurt, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. But still at the forefront, the one thing he hasn’t been able to shake, regardless of time or whatever fucked up things Castiel has done to him, to them, is the sad fact that he’s still hopelessly in-love with the prick.

“Fuck me.” he chokes out, swallowing down the pain and heartache. He scrubs roughly at his face with both hands and takes a deep breath, steeling himself before going back down.

“Sam, Adam, get a move on!” he hollers from the relative safety of the front door. “We’re leaving now.”

He fidgets while he waits, listening to their conversation as their mingled voices chatter animatedly and grow increasingly louder the closer they get to the front room.

Dean’s already holding the door open for them by the time they notice him. “Come on!” he says, rushing them with an impatient wave of his hands.

Both boys turn and say good-bye to their uncle before racing past Dean.

“Dean,” Castiel calls to him again, jogging towards the teen before he exits. “I-“ he begins, tone so hushed Dean can barely hear him, eyes haunted, gaze skating over the boy’s (young man’s) features, studying the effects of time on his adolescent face. _Dear God, he’s grown more beautiful!_ Castiel notes with undisguised awe.

“You what?” Dean snaps, voice booming, anger getting the better of him. “No, wait, you know what, I don’t give a shit about whatever it is you have to say, okay. Maybe I did _five years ago,_ but now,” he shakes his head, deep frown marring his handsome face. “Now, you can go to hell.” He snarls menacingly and leaves.

…

Castiel’s devastated by Dean’s reaction, but not at all surprised. Actually, he expected his first encounter with the young man, after so many years apart, to end worse. So, all things considered, it wasn’t too bad.

No, not bad at all, but it was earth shattering horrible, and apocalyptically terrible in the absolute agony it inflicted on Castiel’s already badly battered heart.

From the moment Castiel ran off, leaving behind a confused and deeply wounded boy, a boy he desperately wanted, _in every way,_ his life has been one plagued with gut-wrenching regret and crippling self-loathing.

But he had to leave, there was no way he was going to follow through with his depraved desires, or buckle under Dean’s ‘seductions’. He refused to victimize the boy, or to vilify himself. For Castiel, a life of perpetual torment, one without Dean, was the only alternative.

He even believed that given the distance of time, the added number of years to reflect and expand upon, in both mind, body and soul, that they would both grow out of their mutual attraction and move on, find other partners, _age_ appropriate partners, partners not of the same family, or of the same sex.

That’s what he foolishly hoped to accomplish when he left Dean’s side, what his main goal was when he tore himself from the boy’s blinding presence. He was so hungry for Dean, instantly tempted by the boy’s sexual maturity, his charm and off the charts magnetism, his outlandish cockiness and swagger, so uncommon in the average twelve year old, but Castiel quickly learned, much to his heart’s detriment, that there was nothing average about Dean.

He found himself in a constant struggle against his immoral attraction to the boy and resisted him with a vehemence that only spurred Dean to try harder, to wear Castiel down until the older man had no choice but to flee. So he ran, taking with him only the memories of their too brief tryst, of Dean’s enthusiastic kisses and the suppleness of his unblemished skin as it yielded willingly, eagerly, under his greedy hands.

_Dean_

But this whole endeavor: his goal to save Dean and himself from the heartache they would inevitably suffer once their sexual relationship deteriorated, seems to have been for naught. A useless ruse, because the second his eyes landed on Dean, he was utterly lost and found himself willing to do anything and everything to win back the young man with whom he is still so desperately in-love.

So heaving a heavy sigh, Castiel reaches out and closes the front door. He turns and walks back to the kitchen, planning along the way on how to win back Dean’s heart.

…

The rumbling of Dean’s car is the first warning Castiel gets of his nephew’s imminent arrival. The second and the third are the successive slamming of doors, the front door, followed closely by Dean’s bedroom.

Castiel gets up from his seat in the family living room, putting down the book he was barely able to focus on, and rushes after him. He climbs the steps to Dean’s bedroom, stopping just outside the closed door, hand fisted, ready to knock, when it suddenly swings open.

Dean runs right into uncle’s body, chests colliding, arms reaching out to wrap around waists, hands landing on hips, fingers digging into firm muscle, trying to keep each other from falling. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean snaps, untangling himself from Castiel and shoving him back.

Castiel stumbles, arms still clinging for purchase on Dean’s hips. “I…I wanted to see what you and the boys want for dinner.” He stammers clumsily. “And to find out when I have to pick Sam and Adam up from their practice.” He asks, although he knows perfectly well, already having a detailed list of both boys’ daily schedules pasted in his phone.

“Oh, okay.” Dean replies, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice; he had secretly hoped Castiel was specifically looking for him. “Ah, Sammy’ll be ready around seven and you can get Adam right after that. I’ll give you their addresses before I leave.” He informs his uncle, voice stony, expression neutral and controlled, unable and not caring to keep the hostility from his tone.

“You’re leaving? You’re not having dinner with us?” Castiel asks not bothering to hide the regret from his voice. “Dean, we need to talk. I want to explain-“

“Look, don’t bother, ‘cause I ain’t buying what you’re selling.” Dean, incensed, advances on him, spitting the words out, stepping right into Castiel’s personal space, forehead pressed menacingly against his uncle’s. “I didn’t want you here but I get why mom and dad did it. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” he keeps pushing, forcing Castiel further back until he has him pinned against the hallway wall.

Dean plants his hands on either side of Castiel’s trapped body, bracketing the other man’s face, fingers spreading so that his thumbs brush against Castiel’s jaw. “So do us both a favor and stay out of my way, and in return, I promise not to _beat your ass_ …” he sneers, lips curling back, eyes fluttering shut at the mental image. “In…into next week.” he manages, exhaling a shaky breath, crowding his slightly bulkier frame against Castiel’s lithe body.

He’s dizzy, head swimming from Castiel's body heat bleeding into him, fueling his arousal. So with no other thought but to touch and mark and claim, Dean pushes his thigh between Castiel's legs and closes the inches until they’re finally touching from chest to toe.

Castiel shivers from their proximity, from the short heated puffs of Dean’s breath as the teen drags his moist lips across Castiel’s jaw. He gasps, breath catching in his throat when Dean forces his legs to part, knees almost buckling when he feels the younger man’s length hardening against his hip, knowing all he has to do is turn his own face a scant inch, and their lips will be touching too.

_And he wants to do it. Will do it._

He moves slowly, fearing Dean might bolt, tilting his face so that their mouths align, licking his lips in anticipation, cock hardening when Dean exhales heatedly across his feverish skin, fingers curling around the teen’s hips, pulling him closer. Dean’s body trembles, reacting deliciously to his uncle’s sinful touches, head canting, lips parting...

“Uncle Cas!!!”

_Adam_

They leap apart, the inferno between their bodies doused in freezing water.

“Yo, Dean!” they hear Sam shout from below. “We’re skipping practice today! Wanna hang with uncle Cas!”

Dean steps further back, staring at Castiel with wide terrified eyes. “Up here!” he shouts back, giving his uncle a wide berth on his way to the stairs.

“Dean, wait-“ Castiel calls after him.

Dean stops but doesn’t look back. “I’m going out, not that it’s any of your business.” he tells the older man, back rigid, tone frigid.

“I...okay. When will you be back?”

This time he does look back, but his eyes are guarded, the softness of his lips replaced by a hard thin line. “Don’t wait up.”

…

After his abysmal encounter with Castiel and with no real destination in mind, Dean races to the one place he knows he’ll find a shoulder to cry on; his best-friend Benny’s house, more than happy when he discovers his other best buddy, really more like a sister, Charlie, already there.

“Hey.” He nods towards his friends, certain that Benny’s steadfast loyalty and the pretty redhead’s special blend of sass and sarcasm, will cheer him up.

They end up hanging out, easy in each other’s company, sharing a six-pack of beer and a large pie with all the toppings; their long teen-age limbs sprawled lazily across the room’s comfy sofa.

But it’s Dean’s uncharacteristic quiet and pensive behavior that alerts his friends that all is not well with their usually boisterous and foul-mouthed friend.

“What’s with you today? I mean, I know you’re upset over your grandpa, and all, but that can’t be the only reason you’ve been acting like such a whiny bitch all day.” Benny states shrewdly.

“Fuck off, man.” Dean sighs from his spot on the couch. “Would a little fucking sympathy be too much of a novelty for you?”

“Me? I’m a beacon of human kindness.” Benny scoffs and tries again. “Come on, what gives?” he prods, nudging Dean’s foot with this bent knee.

“Nothing man, just having a shitty day, is all.” _Understatement of the century,_ goes unsaid.

Dean’s trying to snap out of his funk, thought a few beers and shooting-the-shit with his friends would do the trick, help him forget about his god-awful morning and the nervous-breakdown he almost suffered after seeing Castiel again since, forever.

But now, after what almost happened outside his bedroom…

“Come on guys, let’s go for a drive.” Dean suddenly announces. He jumps off the couch and reaches for his shoes, eager to get up and move. He’s incredibly restless, irritated, frustrated, fucking antsy and in urgent need of some serious stress relief, desperate to scratch at the deep itch buzzing under his skin.

“Da fuck you wanna go?” Benny asks, gingerly extricating himself from the petite redhead, and reaches for his own boots.

The immediate, obvious and only place Dean wants to head back to is Castiel’s arms. But he won’t, he’s vowed to never give himself so completely to anyone ever again, especially not his uncle.

So instead, he suggests, “I’m thinking, maybe somewhere we can score a little action. Maybe find a nice warm body that won’t mind getting up close and personal with my…” he smiles, wide and lecherous, eyebrows waggling, hands gesturing towards his crotch.

Benny snorts and nods. “Brotha, you have a one track mind. And I like it! So what are you in the mood for tonight? Dick or pussy?”

“Blegh!” Charlie grimaces, sticking her finger in her mouth and making mock retching sounds. “Seriously, if I could bottle the classiness that so effortlessly oozes out of your pores, I’d have...an empty bottle.” she quips.

“Surprise me.” Dean snorts laughter, answering Benny’s question.

Benny laughs too but takes Dean’s request seriously, tapping his heavily stubbled chin with the tip of his finger while mulling over their options. “I know! The Roadhouse, we haven’t been there in too long, bound to be fresh meat.”

“Dean, going out and having sex with some random nobody is not the cure.” Charlie advises. “You need to go talk to him.” she insists, referring to Castiel, already well informed of his and Dean’s sordid past.

There isn’t much Dean’s kept hidden from his best friends and knowing that he’s completely exposed the most vulnerable aspects of his life, of his personality, willingly handed over his true self to the two people he trusts the most with his fragile feelings, is a fact that is both comforting and downright unnerving.

“Come on, he was your first love. And trust me, you are not going to find a love like the one you had with him at the Roadhouse.” She persists, totally willing to nag Dean incessantly until he relents and discusses his stunted emotions with his emotionally immature uncle.

“’Fraid to admit it, but Charlie does have a point.” Benny weighs in. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m mad as hell at _this_ Castiel. I think the man owes you a goddamn explanation for, you know...breaking your heart and shit. So, maybe, you should go back to your place and you know, skip this little outing and call it a night.”

Dean considers his friends’ advise, really appreciates how they have his back, but he can’t face Castiel, yet. _If ever again._ He knows, without a doubt, that if he were alone with his uncle, right now, he’d give in, literally throw himself at the bastard, and beg to be taken, used, loved.

_Not again!_

_Well, that’s my mind made up, then._ Dean concludes and with a frustrated grunt, says, “Come on guys, there’s a hot piece of ass with my name written all over them waiting for me at the Roadhouse.”

“Well, you can count me out, bitches.” Charlie announces with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Then to Dean says, “I did _not_ sign up to be your enabler, Dean. So, if you insist in burying your real emotions in meaningless sex, well...” she walks over to him and places her small hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be here for you when you need me, you big idiot, okay.” she says kindly, offering him a small understanding smile.

…

Twenty minutes later, Dean and Benny are walking into the Roadhouse, the part restaurant, part clubhouse, is their town’s favorite teen hangout.

“Well that was fast.” Benny remarks as he and Dean sidle into an empty booth.

“What is?”

“The googly eyes that hot brunette is throwing your way, that’s what.”

Dean looks in the direction his friend is non-to subtly pointing to and gapes. “Isn’t that Lisa Braeden?”

“The one and the same. I’m guessing she’s out on the prowl for her next boy toy, and from the looks of it, seems like you’re it, pardner.” Benny points out, slapping Dean hard on the back.

“But isn’t she going out with that dick, Gordon?”

Benny just looks at his friend and smirks. “Man you really are out if it, ain’t ya. They broke up during first period. We watched it happen.” He reminds Dean turning his head and whistling. “This Castiel thing’s really got you all spun around, huh?”

“Hmpft, Castiel who?” Dean replies, trying for cavalier, dismissive, but not fooling his friend.

“Yeah, nice try. Now you go talk to that girl and lay on some of that famous Winchester charm. I’m sure a little quality time with her will help you forget all about that asshat.”

Dean’s stares at Benny a moment longer, psyching himself up, ready to walk over to his, _fingers-crossed_ , distraction for the evening, when she beats him to it.

“Dean!” Lisa says excitedly, flashing him a dazzling smile, large brown eyes batting flirtatiously. “I’m so glad to run into you.”

Dean’s eyes boggle, he knew the girl was pretty, but up close, with all of her attention focused strictly on him, she’s a fucking knock-out. “Hey there Lisa.” He says casually, as nonchalant as possible, licking his lips when his throat suddenly feels too dry. “I’m really glad too.”

Benny’s loud cough gets their attention. “Well, I just remembered, I, um, have a ton of laundry I gotta do before tomorrow, so, ah…I’ll catch you both later.” Leaning closer to Dean, he whispers, “Do me proud.” and clambers out.

…

Dean scoots over and gestures for Lisa to join him. “So, you and Gordon, huh?”

The pretty brunette drops her eyes and shakes her head. “Guess you heard. We, well, I, broke it off.” she confides, looking back up with large sad eyes. “But,” she continues, large smile back in place. “It was a long time coming, really, and he didn’t appreciate me or what we had, you know. And I just needed more, know what I mean? So…oh my god, I’m so sorry for rambling on like that. You must think I’m an idiot.”

Dean takes her hand in his and inches closer. “No, never. And yeah, I totally get why you broke it off with him.” Because he does know, sadly all too well, the heartache of a one-sided relationship.

_Relationship? As if._

“His loss, my gain.” He eventually says, leaning even closer, layering the comment with a seductive purr, murmuring the words across her cheek.

They spend the next hour chatting and getting to know each other, the tentative brushing of fingertips turning into outright groping the later the hour gets.

…

“Oh Dean” Lisa sighs, head falling back against the cool leather of the Impala’s backseat. “Ahh…” She moans when Dean tugs at her underwear, dipping his fingers around the lace edge and slides them off. She reclines further back, legs spreading, arms winding around Dean’s shoulders, clinging to him.

Dean’s on automatic, going through the motions, because even though his mind and heart are unwilling participants, he’s more than happy to let his body do what it does best. Sure, it may be abrupt, and he is most definitely taking advantage, but fuck it, it’s not like the girl writhing beneath is complaining.

“Mmm…so fucking hot for you, baby.” It’s a reflex, an innate instinct to charm and captivate a potential lay. But the words ring hollow in his ears and he almost cringes. Still, he started this and will do his damnedest to see it through.

Dean Winchester is nothing if not a thoroughly dedicated fucker.

He buries his face in her neck, mouthing at the fragile skin, tongue licking a wet trail towards her chest, pausing to suck a hickey on the swell of her breast. He shoves two fingers into his mouth and sucks on them, thoroughly coating them with saliva, dropping his hand back between her legs to insert spit sloppy digits into her wet cunt.

“Deeen!” She keens, back arching, breath coming out in short gasps.

God, he wishes she wouldn’t speak. Wishes the timbre and tone of her soft feminine voice was deeper, lower, gruffer, like…

He growls in frustration and pushes the thought aside. Fuck’s wrong with me? he wonders, almost snorting at the absurdity of his skewed thought processes. Right here sprawled in the backseat of his car, eager and ready for the taking, is the hottest girl in school and all he can focus on is how _not right_ her voice sounds or how wrong her body feels.

He hates to admit it, but he’s certain his lackluster performance is a combination of Castiel’s sudden reappearance and his innate fear that no one, especially someone like Lisa, will ever ‘appreciate’ his aggressive approach to fucking and reciprocate with the same amount of passion that comes all to naturally to him.

No, what Dean wants, what he craves and has always needed is someone that will take the time to tear and break him apart with their hands and mouth and then care enough to put him back together with a warm caress, or a loving word.

_Just like uncle Cas._ Dean's dick starts to fill in earnest thanks to that depraved realization.

“Fuck!” he hisses, body coursing with boner-killing ire.

He sits back on his knees and gently pulls his wet tacky fingers out. “You want my cock, huh, Lisa?” He whispers in the cramped space, palming at his crotch. “Is that what you want, huh, you cockslut.” He keeps taunting, completely distracted and not really paying attention to the offensive filth coming out of his mouth, all of his focus zeroed in on the sad fact that he’s nowhere near hard.

With a muffled ‘harrumph’, Lisa shimmies out from under Dean’s legs, reaches for her discarded clothes and clutches them tightly to her chest. “Wow, Dean, ah, I really like you, but not so crazy about your pillow talk.”

_Really? Like every girl doesn’t dream of not-getting-fucked by a surly and flaccid Dean in the back of his precious Impala. Pure Disney magic at work, folks!_

Dean can’t believe how much of a fuck up he’s turning out to be. But confounding his self hate is the fact that he’s also ruined Lisa’s night. “Sorry about that, I sometimes get a little carried away.”

_Yeah, d’uh!_

They put themselves back together, not touching, avoiding eye contact, the silence deafening, awkward.

“Can I give you a ride home-“ Dean offers, hoping desperately she’ll say no.

“No, thanks.”

_Whew!_

“My car’s right over there.” She responds, pointing to a cherry red Taurus parked under a street lamp.

Dean opens his door and offers her his hand. “Here, I’ll walk you over-“

“No, don’t be silly.” She protests. “You look like you’ve had a hard day. I know I did.” She mutters to herself. “Just watch and make sure I get in, okay.”

“Sure, no prob.”

They stand looking at each other a moment longer under the unforgiving lights of the restaurant's parking lot, feet shuffling, hands tucked in pockets, not sure where to go from here.

Lisa, reading the situation for what it is, bravely makes the final move. “You take care, Dean.” she tells him and with a pained smile, stands on her toes and gives him one last kiss on the cheek.

…

It’s an hour later before Dean’s finally stumbling into his house. He spent the last forty-five minutes sitting in his car chugging down five beers, brooding over missed opportunities and failed relationships, recalling the bittersweet memories of smooth chiseled planes, pink plush lips, and ocean blue eyes. And as a result is very drunk and unfortunately, very horny.

“Where the hell have you been?” Castiel growls, wrathful, jumping on Dean the second the teen closes the door, hands wrapping around Dean’s biceps, fingers denting the skin, sure to leave bruises.

“Fuck you care?” Dean slurs, trying and failing to break out of his uncle’s iron-like grip.

Castiel levels his nephew with a stormy look, gaze hovering over Dean’s lips, back up to his eyes. “It’s two am, Dean.” He snarls, voice hoarse, gravely, the tone dangerous, teeth clenched, body stepping closer. “You didn’t call…I was worried.”

Dean finally manages to break free, but trips over his own feet when he tries to step around Castiel’s intimidating stance. “Well,” he hiccups, bracing himself with a hand against Castiel’s chest. _Fuck, he’s_ _so ripped,_ Dean notes absently, fingers spreading over the firm peck and squeezing.

A rushed intake of breath from the man he’s currently fondling brings him back to the moment. “Ah…oh yeah, it’s none of your fucking business, for one.” he starts in again, mind back on track. “And for number two,” he sniggers, holding up two fingers. “If you really must know, I was with a _girl._ A fucking beautiful girl. Hot! With big titties and a fucking tight pussy. Okay!” He flaunts. “She was so fucking hot for me, so fucking wet, Cas, all for me, okay.”

It’s like a punch to the gut. Castiel never expected Dean to wait for him, per se, to live a ‘chaste and celibate’ life, but having the reality of his nephew’s philandering thrown in his face, has him quite literally seeing red and in his anger shoves Dean forcibly against the wall, hard enough so that the young man’s teeth rattle.

"You mean to tell me that the reason you're so late is because you were out fucking some girl?" he hisses, chest tight, he can barely breathe, rage making him irrational.

Dean pushes him off, knocking the older man over. "Yes I did!” He growls right back, heart racing, reveling in the pain that crosses Castiel’s blue eyes. “And it was fucking fantastic! The best goddamn sex I ever had!”

He strides to where Castiel has landed and looming over him, sneers, “She does things to me that no one else ever has, Cas. Not even you.” he mocks cruelly. “Made me feel so goddamn good. Wish I was back with her right now." he wavers, words petering out, uncertainty taking their place.

Now that the initial rush to hurt and to gouge and to cut Castiel to the quick is satisfied, all that he’s left with is a gut wrenching desire to comfort and to…love.

But he won’t and can’t stop. He needs Castiel to hurt, to feel the same deep ache that he’s had to endure, to fucking accept and embrace as a fact of life, for the past five years.

“She wanted me.” he continues, words heated, defiant, daring Castiel to challenge him. “Me! Thought I was worth her time. And fucking screamed like a goddamn banshee when I fucked her, she loved my cock so much.”

Castiel stares, stormy glower softening in the face of Dean’s tirade, attention rapt as Dean unleashes years of pent up grief. And he takes it all, all of Dean’s abuse, eagerly, with open arms, until the young man has tired himself out.

He staggers to his feet and reaches for his nephew, tentatively grasping onto his forearms when the latter doesn’t back away and pulls Dean closer.

Dean sways against his uncle’s chest, bunching the front of Castiel’s shirt in his fists and yanks him forward, chins bumping. “So fuck you and fuck your fake fucking concern, you fucking prick. ‘Cause I don’t need you. I already have someone that actually wants me.” He rambles on, voice small, the words ghosting heatedly over Castiel’s mouth, fingers flexing around the wrinkled fabric.

“Dean,” Castiel sighs, desire and intent clear in the husky rumble. “Of course she wants you, my beautiful boy.” He takes Dean’s face, cupping the chiseled jaw in his warm hands, chin pivoting a little bit higher, until their lips brush. “Everybody wants you. Only a complete fool would refuse you.” he tells Dean, the words coming out hoarse, but the fierceness and conviction in his tone leaves no room for doubt to whom he’s referring.

Their lips connect, again and again, for the briefest of moments, the pressure tender, barely there, exhaling and inhaling the building heat between them.

“You…you don’t want me, though.” Dean argues, voice shaky the words faltering. He feels like he’s falling, like the ground is getting ready to open up and swallow him whole. Only Castiel’s hands, _his_ _will_ , keeping him grounded, keeping him safe. “Why…how, how come…did I do something, what did I do wrong?”

Castiel turns their bodies towards the stairs, gently nudging Dean in their general direction. “But I do want you, Dean.” He purrs, lips hovering over the teen’s. “More than anything.” He swears, not pausing as he guides Dean to his bedroom.

They make it to the stairs, stopping for a brief moment on each step to hold each other a little bit closer, to press their faces into the other’s neck a little bit deeper, inhaling the other’s glorious scent, grabbing and groping every body part within reach.

Castiel opens Dean’s bedroom door and steers Dean to his bed, letting him fall back onto it when the teen’s knees hit the mattress’ edge.

“Umpht!” Dean grunts upon impact, still pleasantly tipsy, laughter bubbling up his throat, he feels so fucking good. “C’mere.” He orders, patting the bed in invitation.

Castiel goes eagerly; kneeling next to his nephew’s hip and bending at the waist to unbutton his shirt. “Dean, as much as I would love to lay here with you,” he says softly, eyes raking over Dean’s exposed chest, gaze dark with want, lips curling in a feral smile. “I’m…fuck.” He mouths, licking his lips. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

The bottom drops out from under Dean and he lashes out. “I fucking knew it!” he scrambles back, kicking out at Castiel with his feet.

“Dean, you don’t understand-”

“No! Fuck you, Cas. You know what, you’re a real fucking dick.” He snarls, spitting the words, suddenly sober, swinging his legs over the bed and out of his uncle’s reach. “What is it with me, huh, you enjoy putting my heart through the fucking meat grinder? Get your kicks seeing me make a fool out of myself over you?”

He walks around the bed to where Castiel still lays stunned, crestfallen, wide-eyed with shock.

“Dean, you are gravely mistaken if you think that my intention was to hurt you.”

“Mistaken? The only thing I made a mistake in was letting myself think that you actually gave a damn!” Incensed and full of rage, Dean pounces, throwing his heavier body on top of Castiel’s, grabbing his wrists and pinning them over his head. “You know what Cas, there’s a special place in hell for sick pricks like you.” he smirks, struggling for control while his uncle squirms and bucks under him.

They grapple, wrestling for dominance, arms and legs tangling, fists flying and hitting their target, rolling around on the bed and landing hard on the hardwood floor.

“Stop! Dean, please, listen to-“

A fist to his jaw silences Castiel and he tastes iron.

“No…it’s your turn to listen.” Dean pants, out of breath, straddling Castiel now that he has the upper hand. “Not a little kid anymore, _uncle Cas_.” He sneers, infusing as much of his hurt and anger into Castiel’s name as his broken heart can manage. “Did you actually think I was gonna let you waltz back into my life, tear my whole fucking world upside down, rip my heart out, _again,_ and I wouldn’t do anything about it?”

Dean grinds his ass against Castiel’s crotch, the gyrations an obscene contrast to the menace in his tone. “Humpht.” He smirks, grinding down with more force when Castiel’s erection wedges perfectly between his denim-clad cheeks. “I know you wanna fuck me, I can feel it.” His voice dips low, a sexy murmur, bending lower until his face hovers directly over Castiel’s, lips grazing his uncle’s tempting mouth.

Castiel’s back arches, bringing their chests flush, his lips part, and in a breathless whisper says, “Yes, I do, Dean. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” The fire in Castiel’s eyes burns with an unwavering desire for the god-like teen, and raising his head, brazenly chases after Dean’s lips.

Dean draws back, denying Castiel, _and himself_ , and with a pained expression, asks, “Then why did you leave…me?” he wants to know, needs to know, eyes pleading, welling with tears. “I...you never even said goodbye.”

Castiel’s heart breaks. Again. He desperately wants to take Dean’s pain away, to be the one to put the mischievous glint back into the teens beautiful green eyes.

He shifts under Dean and eases him back, sits up and maneuvers Dean until he’s perched on Castiels’ thighs, arms winding around the youth’s waist. “I’m so sorry for hurting you.” he apologizes, bringing a hand up to Dean’s face, thumb caressing the high ridge of his cheekbone. “What I did, leaving you, was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” Castiel lowers his hand until it rests on Dean’s nape, and wrapping his fingers around the fragile skin, pulls the teen in for a soft kiss.

The luscious press of lips starts off slow and sensual, but when Castiel licks into Dean’s mouth, _this_ , their first real kiss in five years, turns sloppy and wet, hungry and possessive when Castiel thrusts his tongue forcibly into his nephew’s mouth.

“I wanted to give you time-” Castiel starts again, sucking in a ragged breath when they break for air.

“Time for what? I don’t-”

But Castiel cuts Dean off, silencing the distraught youth with another kiss. “Time,” he continues, eyes locked on Dean’s “To make sure you really wanted me, and this. Dean you were twelve. I couldn’t let myself take advantage of you. I...I loved you too much. Still do.”

Dean’s speechless, unsure what to do now or what’s expected of him.

_Castiel loves me? Wants me?_

It’s everything Dean’s ever hoped for. But he hesitates, doubtful of his uncle’s claims and only sure of his own desperate need to believe and trust in him, again.

“But just now,” he points out, voice small and hurt, but with an expectant edge. “I mean earlier when you said you couldn’t stay with me-”

“Dean you were drunk. I wasn’t going to sleep with you unless I was sure you were in your right mind and really wanted this…as much as I do.” Castiel explains, fingers kneading Deans sides, skimming over his hips, snaking around and landing on his ass. “Do you still want to? Me, I mean?”

Dean can’t believe his ears. The earnestness in Castiel’s baby-blues and the unbridled hope in his tone, finally convince Dean, that yes, good things do happen, even to him.

“Do I want you?” he huffs in disbelief. “Fuck yeah! Always…always, want you. Never stopped.” he swears and surges forward to wrap his arms around Castiel’s shoulders, kissing him deep and hard, teeth knocking, tongues tangling, ass undulating sensuously against the older man’s lap.

It’s like the proverbial ‘weight of the world’ magically lifts off Dean’s shoulders when he allows himself to believe, to trust, that Castiel’s love for him is true. That the man he’s been committed to since the age of twelve, even though he vehemently fought against it, isn’t going to abandon him ever again.

“Cas…” Dean exhales seductively into his uncle’s mouth. “Missed you so fucking much.” He groans, hips grinding over Castiel’s obscenely tented slacks. “Missed your cock so much…want you in me.” he pleads, body thrumming with arousal, fingers twisting in the thick mess of Castiel’s hair, holding onto to him for dear life.

Castiel hums approvingly, completely on board with his nephew’s suggestions. He helps Dean off the floor, never breaking contact, skillfully steering him back towards his bed, maneuvering Dean until the younger man is laying flat on his back.

“Dean, I’ve wanted this for so long.” Castiel confesses, voice coarse, gravel rough from want, from years of yearning for this bewitching boy, this man that so completely owns his heart and his very soul.

He climbs onto the bed, knee nudging Dean’s legs apart, bending lower to reach the teen’s beautifully swollen lips, tongue swiping hot and wet across the seam, insistent, demanding entrance, mapping out the entirety of his nephew’s mouth, relearning the delectable feel, shape, and taste of him. _Of Dean._

Dean moans, whimpering sweet little sounds of pleasure as Castiel ravishes his mouth, reaching out with a blinding urgency to unbutton his uncle’s shirt. “Need you naked, now!” he orders, yanking at the offensive shirt, impatiently tearing at it so that the last three buttons pop off.

Castiel pulls back, but only far enough to get his arms free and his fly open. He leans back on his haunches and snakes a hand down his briefs, pulling out his fully erect cock, tugging and stroking its long length to ease the building pressure to his balls.

Dean’s eyes grow large and dark. “Fuck” he gasps, mesmerized, catching his full bottom lip between his teeth, mouth watering with deep appreciation for Castiel’s endowment.

But when he grabs for his own zipper, Castiel smacks his hands away, and in one fell swoop, divests Dean of both his jeans and underwear.

“Eager much, Cas?” Dean wisecracks, earning himself a withering glare for his cheekiness, and laughing outright from his uncle’s petulant reaction. “Get over here.” He says, pulling the older man down and wiping the frown off his face with a heated kiss.

Their kisses deepen and their hands wander freely, fingers squeezing, pinching, marking each other, a frantic give and take of pleasure and pain. And, now fully nude, with nothing to buffer their excitement or desire for the other, they’re free to explore with their hands, and eyes, and mouths.

Castiel covers the entirety of Dean’s face, neck and torso with a long winding path of nips, sucks and bites, mouth pausing over his nipples, teeth grazing over the erect nubs, teasing them until they’re red and swollen.

Dean hisses from the focused stimulation, mind unraveling from the heightened pleasure. “Fucking killing me, Cas.”

Castiel lifts his head, looking up at Dean with lust-hungry eyes, and smirks, a smug barely there curl of his lips that only serves to magnify Dean’s arousal, and then lowers his head again, continuing on his journey.

His lips follow a serpentine path towards Dean’s groin, pausing for a long leisurely moment to worship at his hipbones, worrying the peaks with his teeth, sucking hard until blood blossoms under the thin flesh.

“Please...” Dean begs, shamelessly, wantonly, not caring one bit how he sounds, hips jerking up, dick slapping Castiel’s cheek, leaving behind a slicked smear of pre-cum.

“Fuck…” the older man groans, pressing his palm against his own erection to stave off his orgasm. “What…” he gasps, swallowing around the lump in his throat in a vain attempt to get his breathing under control. “What…Dean, tell me what you want.” He huffs, teasing, pulling his head back, skirting around Dean’s dick, head dropping between the teen’s thighs to bite at the baby soft skin.

“Jee-zus!” Dean does not whine, biting down on his knuckles to keep from screaming, pelvis wiggling in frustration, hands reaching down to grip at Castiel’s shoulders, fingers crawling up to thread through the silky strands of hair to guide his uncle’s filthy mouth towards his aching dick.

“Dean…I can’t hear you.” Castiel provokes, adding fuel to the fire currently coursing through his nephew’s veins.

“Cas, you…you are one cruel fucker!” Dean hisses. “Just…fucking blow me already!”

He feels Castiel smirk against the sensitive flesh, writhing as the older man sucks and bites his way from his inner thighs towards his rigid length. “Oh…fucking lord!” Dean cries out when Castiel wraps warm fingers around his shaft, face poised over his nephew’s dick for a beat, before finally, blissfully, closing his lips around the crown, tongue licking a long line from tip to base then back up, slurping around the head, the sharp point of his tongue stabbing at the slit.

Dean bites down hard on his bottom lip to keep his voice down, to keep his screaming in check, but not really too worried about being overheard since he knows, all too well, how thoroughly like the dead, both of his brother’s tend to sleep.

“Cassss…” he moans, canting his hips higher, trying to get his uncle to take more of him in.

Castiel hums and groans as he laps and sucks, head lowering until he’s mouthing at the base, lips opening wide to suckle on his balls, looking up with lust blown eyes and locking them with Dean’s as he devours the entirety of his length.

“Dean…” Castiel breaks off for a second. “Lube…” he murmurs over the glistening head.

Dean wiggles over to the bed’s edge and fishes for his lube, tossing it next to Castiel’s head with a triumphant grunt.

Castiel sucks him back down. Dean groans.

Castiel swallows. Dean curses and bucks.

Castiel chokes, eyes watering, spluttering for air. Dean cries. The vibrations that thrum around Dean’s dick push the teen to the brink.

Castiel pulls off but keeps his fingers wrapped around the base, bending to suckle at the plumb head while reaching with his other hand to prod at Dean’s hole, gently pressing the tip of a finger against the springy pucker without breaching it.

Dean curses, his soft breathy moans filling the otherwise quiet of his bedroom.

Castiel teases Dean’s entrance, finger swirling around the rim, groaning and almost cumming when it flutters and spasms around the digit, finally inserting it when Dean pleads for mercy.

His finger glides into the first knuckle, pulsing in and out for a long moment, crooking and probing, before adding a second. Scissoring and stretching Dean until the teen is thrashing and jerking, outright begging, an incoherent ramble of _please_ , and _you’re killing me,_ and _fuck me now_.

“M-more...ready,” Dean grunts, needing more, demanding that his uncle pick up the fucking pace.

But Castiel ignores his cries, opting instead to savor the teen’s bitter-sweet taste and the exquisite sounds he makes as Castiel continues to open him up. He scoots even lower and urges Dean to part his thighs further, presses his face against the teen’s ass, and with the aid of two fingers, slips his tongue in, moaning out loud from the heady musk and all-consuming heat of Dean’s essence.

“Argh!” Dean cries out, bucking from how fucking great it feels, his untouched dick hot and heavy against his hip, pre-cum leaking freely from the tip, he’s so fucking ready to blow.

”Fuck…gonna cum…swear…”

Castiel immediately pulls out, much to Dean’s displeasure (or is it relief) laughing wickedly at his nephew’s needy whimpers, stroking his shaft and repositioning himself between the younger man’s legs. He picks up the discarded bottle of lube, squeezes more into his palm (sure to spread it liberally along the long length of his cock) and placing the blunt end against the loosened muscle, eases in, one painstaking inch at a time.

 _It’s like coming home_ , Castiel muses, heart thumping heavily in his chest from the realization. Filling Dean, feeling how the teen’s exquisite body closes around him, encasing him in tight, tight heat, devouring him, _this, right here_ , is where he was always meant to be. And despite all of his nephew’s bravado, he moves slowly, cautiously, giving the younger man a chance to adjust and relax around him while his uncle bottoms-out, hips pressed flush against the teen’s ass.

He slumps forward, hands flat on either side of Dean’s shoulders, the teen’s legs wrapping around his waist, and bends even lower to trade a few kisses and to whisper a few loving words. But once he’s confident Dean’s adjusted, Castiel pulls out almost all the way, only the bulbous tip caught around the tight rim, freezing in that position for a glorious moment to look into his lover’s heavy-lidded eyes, lips curling in another wicked grin, and slams back in with a brutal snap of his hips.

“Grahhh!” Dean grunts, head slamming back against his pillow, eyes sealed shut, lips parted on a silent plea from the overwhelming pleasure, hoping like hell that his little brothers don’t wake.

"Dean…" Castiel gasps, pace a slow sensual drag of velvet swallowed by velvet. "So…beautiful…love you.” he huffs, breathless, cock needy, thrusting with a relentless rhythm into Dean’s quivering body. “Your mine now…say, say it…say you're mine." He demands slamming back in, pace quickening, punishing, when he thinks of another touching his boy.

"Yours…" the teen chokes out, chest heaving, body shuddering when a particularly well aimed thrust brushes deliciously against his prostate. "Always…" He moans, delirious, teeth clenched to stifle back a sob, dick slapping obscenely against his stomach, the glorious friction and the look of complete and utter possessiveness in Castiel’s eyes has him on the precipice, and he’s more than ready to fall.

Castiel too can feel his orgasm building; each thrust more and more erratic, breaths short, heart rate furious. He grips the firm muscles of Dean’s ass and hoists his legs higher, allowing him to penetrate deeper and to fuck him harder. “Dean…cum…cum for me…” _Only me._

And that’s all she wrote.

Castiel’s command (permission) and the persistent pounding to his sweet spot pushes Dean over the edge. “Mmmpht-“ he chokes and cums, cock pulsing between them, shooting ropes and ropes of semen across their torsos.

Transfixed by the gorgeous sight of his nephew coming undone because of him, plus the overwhelming stimulation of Dean’s hole flexing and spasming around his dick, unravels the tightly coiled heat in Castiel’s gut, and he spills, breathlessly moaning a chorus of _Dean_ and _mine_ and _always,_ into the teen’s neck.

Dean hooks his ankles higher to pull Castiel closer when he feels the older man’s body stiffen and his cock throb inside him. He latches on tightly while Castiel rides out his orgasm; digging blunt fingernails into the flexing muscles of his uncle’s back and whispering his own stream of sweet-nothings into his ear.

Finally emptied, Castiel collapses, a boneless weight on top of Dean. He turns his head so that he faces his nephew, places a soft kiss on the hinge of his jaw and drapes a heavy arm over the youth’s waist, tucking him against his side.

“We need to clean up and then you need to sleep. You still have school tomorrow.” Castiel mumbles sleepily into the short sweaty strands of Dean’s hair, moving gently so as not to jostle the teen as he tries to get up.

“M’stay.” Dean pouts, wrapping the older man in a tangle of arms and legs, sighing contentedly when he’s met with no resistance.

Castiel laughs, full and genuine, happiness rolling off him in waves. “Has anyone ever told you are incredibly irresistible?” Castiel chastises, brow cocked, but stays, burrowing his head into his nephew’s neck, peppering the damp skin with slow lazy kisses until they both drift off, peaceful and satisfied.

…

It’s only a few hours later but for the first time in five years Dean wakes feeling thoroughly rested. Sure, he’s achy and sore, but he’s never felt better.

He reaches out, hand groping for Castiel’s warm body and finds a cold empty spot instead. Panicked, he bolts from his bed, yanks the door open, and rushes out into the hallway where he’s immediately hit with the delicious aroma of…

_Bacon_

“God, I love that fuckable asshole.” He mutters to himself.

“Ewww, Dean! You freakin reek, dude!” Sam cries out, pinching his nostrils shut with one hand and fanning the air with his other. “And for chrissakes, put some pants on, man!” he begs, mock-retching. "Gonna give Adam nightmares if he sees you like that!”

Sam skirts around his bemused brother and heads for the stairs, yelling over his shoulder as he thumps heavily down to the lower level, “Don’t want uncle Cas seeing your junk either, bro, we just finally got him back. Don’t wanna scare him off again.”

Dean laughs at how on the money his little brother tends to be with his snarky-ass comments. “Little shit.” He huffs with affection and feeling lighter than he ever thought possible, heads to the bathroom.

…

“Good morning, Dean. Did you sleep well?” Castiel asks by way of greeting, eyes locking onto his oldest nephew the second he walks into the kitchen; smile so wide, the corners of his eyes crinkle. “How do you feel?”

Dean grins back, just as wide and just as sincere, wanting nothing more in that moment than to drag his uncle back up to his bedroom, kiss the smug grin off his handsome face, and show him with his mouth and hands just how fucking great he feels. “Feel real good, Cas.” He says instead, moving to stand next to him by the counter. “Smells great.” he beams, pressing unnecessarily close to Castiel’s side in order to reach for a strip of bacon. “Taste good, too.” he hums, munching happily.

Castiel narrows his eyes and glares at him, but with no heat, small-pleased smile still playing on the corners of his lips. “Here, I’ll make you a dish, sit.” He orders, pointing to the dining table and warning Dean with a stern look to behave.

…

A short while later, with bellies full from their delicious breakfast, Sam and Adam are tearing out of their seats and heading for their book-bags, yelling as they pass by Dean’s still seated figure to hurry the heck up before they miss their bus.

Dean sends his uncle a lopsided grin and shrugs as if to say, _these crazy kids, what can I do?_ He reaches across the table for Castiel’s hand, giving it a small squeeze and gets up to leave.

“Dean, um, will you be home later?” Castiel asks his nephew, suddenly shy, chewing nervously on his plump bottom lip, still holding the teen’s hand.

Dean brings the older man’s hand up to his lips and presses a kiss across the knuckles. “Cas, I’m only going in for attendance, then my ass is right back here and we’re going right back to bed.” He explains with a suggestive wink.

Castiel’s eyes widen, scandalized. “No, you will not. I won’t have you cutting school, Dean. Not on my watch. You will attend all of your classes and when-“

“Whoa, whoa,” Dean jumps in, hands held up in surrender. “It’s not like that, at all. It’s finals week and since I’ve aced all of my classes, I’m exempt.” Dean clarifies, chest puffing up with pride. “Hey, don’t look so surprised,” he huffs indignantly when Castiel eyes him suspiciously. “Sammy isn’t the only genius in the family.”

Castiel drops his eyes, cheeks blushing from embarrassment. “My apologies, Dean. I don’t doubt your intelligence for one second. I do, however, believe, well, hoped anyway, that you might try to play hooky in order to spend more time with me.” he answers sheepishly, eyes looking everywhere but at Dean.

“You sap.” Dean grins and pulls the older man into a crushing embrace.

“Dean, haul ass!”

“Adam.” Dean grumbles. “That kid’s got a mouth on him.” he smirks but makes a mental note to sit his little brother down and warm him against using that kind of language whenever their mother is around, or it’s his hide.

“Listen,” Dean says softly, lips closing over Castiel’s. “Gotta run. But I’ll be back in two hours, max.” another kiss, a hard squeeze to the older man’s ass, and Dean leaves.

…

Dean storms through the front door, a record forty-seven minutes later.

“Ca-“ he calls out, cut off when he’s forcibly slammed against the foyer wall. “Hey-“ he starts, but again is cut off, this time by Castiel’s mouth pressing urgent kisses across the teen’s face, into the fragrant crook of his neck, against his mouth, while strong hands travel the length of his torso, along his sides, winding around his waist to rest on the swell of his ass.

“I missed you.” Castiel growls, eyes wide, glowing, dipping his head and burying it once again against Dean’s throat, teeth parting to graze at the thundering pulse-point.

Dean gulps and licks his lips, arms wrapping around Castiel’s shoulders. “Y-yeah…I can see that.” he pants from the onslaught, head falling back exposing more of his neck for his uncle to ravage. “Can’t get enough of me, huh, Cas?”

“No…” Castiel mouths the word against the divot in Dean’s throat, tongue swirling around his adam’s apple, trailing a long damp line to the curve of the teen’s jaw. “A lifetime with you…Dean,” he sighs, the hot rush of air behind the sensitive earlobe gives the teen goose bumps. “And it still won’t be enough.”

Dean grabs Castiel’s face, and without further ado or preamble or any other fucking idiom his buzzing mind can come up with, crashes their lips together, kissing him breathless, sucking with a great deal of fervor on his uncle’s hot-as-fuck tongue. “Fuck, Cas-“ he huffs around the slippery muscle. “You can’t just say things like that.” he argues, diving back in to swallow whatever romantic shit the older man might come up with to counter Dean’s lame-ass protest.

“What say we move this little reunion…” Dean suggests with a lewd roll of his hips, grinding the large bulge he’s sporting against Castiel’s fuck-hard erection. “Back to my room?”

“No,” his uncle replies, nose brushing across Dean’s ear, fingers hooking through the teen’s belt loops. “My room, I have a special surprise for you.”

…

They stumble clumsily towards Castiel’s room, hands and mouths never breaking contact, almost falling through the door when they refuse to part for even a second.

But once inside, they do pause.

Dean gazes around the room, eyes sparkling from the reflection, and whistling a long undulating note, says, “Wow! Um, think you got enough candles set up here, Cas?” he remarks, trying for flippant even though his heart swells with unbridled love for his uncle’s uber romantic gesture. “Pretty nice, baby.” He adds and wraps an arm around the older man’s neck, angling it so that he can rest his head on his uncle’s shoulder.

Dean has to hand it to Castiel, when he said he had a special surprise, he wasn’t kidding. The teen gazes around the room, eyes large and grinning stupidly, more than a little impressed with the romantic-fairytale-like atmosphere created by the multiple flickering lights covering every surface,

“I’m glad you like it.” Castiel hums happily next to him, pivoting his head so his lips press against Dean’s temple.

“So what’s the occasion?” Dean asks, he knows it’s a stupid question, but he’s feeling a little entitled and figures he deserves a little self-indulgence, especially after the hell Castiel put him through.

Castiel spins his nephew until the teen is facing him. “Dean,” he starts, voice a low throaty whisper, eyes narrowed and focused on Dean, expression serious, grim.

_So basically, being Cas._

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. Something you don’t know about me. Something that will affect both of us and our…relationship.” He adds with an ominous air.

 _Fuck’s the problem now?_ Dean wants to yell into his uncle’s stupidly blue eyes. “It’s okay, Cas, you know you can tell me anything, right?” Dean says instead, voice tight, much like his chest, forcing as much calmness and casualness into his tone as humanly possible, considering he’s been expecting the other shoe to drop pretty much since the moment Castiel vehemently declared his undying love for him and assured Dean he’d never leave him again.

_Yeah, that lasted about as long as Dean expected._

Dean was just hoping the inevitable breakup to their car-wreak of a relationship wouldn’t happen until further down the line, like until the end of the week at least, give him a chance to bask in Castiel’s effervescent light, his otherworldly glow, in his fucking awesome presence. _God, who’s the sap now?_

Castiel cants his head to the side, eyes squinty, lips pursed. “Why do you look scared?” he asks, genuinely baffled by his nephew’s sudden unease.

“What? Nothing, man, s’all good. I mean it’s not like you’re gonna tell me that you didn’t mean everything you told me yesterday, right? Or that you’re gonna leave and disappear, again, for god knows how long, this time.” he continues, dread mounting with each speculation. “That you don’t really love me and never have. I mean that would be pretty fucked up, Cas, even for you. ‘Cause, seriously, if that’s what this is about, like you’re trying to break it to me with candles and shit and-“

Castiel grabs Dean’s face, presses their lips together and slips his tongue in, interrupting the teen’s incoherent rambling with his mouth and easing the tension from Dean’s body with his hands. “Shh…” he shushes Dean, rubbing soothing circles across his nephew’s back until he’s loose and pliant in Castiel’s arms. “Now, from the beginning, why are you upset?” He asks again, more gently this time reaching out to cup Dean’s face in his hands eyes alight with concern.

Dean’s head reels, one minute they’re fumbling their way towards Castiel’s bed with promises of great sex, and forever, and love, and the next, Castiel’s about to tell him he wants to break up. _Again._

Okay, so maybe those weren’t the actual words the older man used. But come on, we’re talking about Castiel, here! A fucking god! Gorgeous, and smart, and interesting, with a big beautiful cock and a mouth that won’t quit. A man that can have anybody. So why would he settle for the likes of Dean? A stupid little nobody that can never measure up or be good enough for this amazing man.

God, Dean is so fucking tired, fucking exhausted and done with everything and everybody for the next…forty years, at least. So taking a page out of Charlie's book, he mans up and decides to tell, to confess to his ‘lover’, Castiel, _the fucking love of his life,_ what he really thinks, and, _gulp,_ how he really feels, once and for all.

Dean licks his lips and with grim determination starts. “Look, I’m fine, I really am.” he lies. _Fuck, this is_ _hard,_ he winces, and by the way Castiel is warily observing his anxious fidgeting, he’s not buying Dean’s bullshit either.

“Okay, maybe that wasn’t the complete truth, but come on, I’m trying here.” Dean implores, resting his hands on Castiel’s slim hips, thumbs rubbing circles over the jutting bone. “I mean, look at you, man. You’re freakin amazing, okay. Like, you could have anybody. Anybody!” he repeats fiercely. “So, why would you waste your time with me?” he murmurs low and defeated.

“Dean, please, you-“

“No. Let me finish. You wanted to know what’s wrong, right? So here it is.” Dean takes a deep breath and with a heavy exhale, says, “Tell me Castiel, because I really need to know, okay, no more holding back or running off. Is this,” he gestures between them with a wave of his hand. “Only about…sex?”

“Dean…” Is all Castiel says, soft and wounded before surging forward and wrapping Dean in his arms. “Only sex?” he asks, whispering the words in Dean’s ear, stubbled cheek dragging deliciously across the teen’s, the combined scritch-scratch sending shivers through them both.

Castiel tilts his face back, blue eyes searching Dean’s, hands kneading the firm muscles of the teen’s ass. “Listen carefully, Dean Winchester.” He says, releasing Dean’s ass and taking both of his hands instead. “I. Love. You.” Castiel tells him, punctuating each word with a soft tap on the lips. “I am not going anywhere. As a matter of fact,” _Kiss_. “What I wanted to tell you before,” _Kiss, nose rub._ “Is that I have spent the past five years getting my Master’s degree in teaching.” _Kiss, tongue, nip._ “And come September, I will be a teacher in your school.”

“Wha-what? You…here? Wait, how…but when you said…let me get this straight, they said okay?” Dean stammers, fish-mouthing from shock, and it would be comical except for the tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Yes, Dean.” Castiel whispers sweetly, leaning forward to kiss the path of a tear from one cheek and reaching up to gently swipe away the other with the pad of his thumb. “Is that okay?” he has to ask, still unsure of Dean’s forgiveness and acceptance after his betrayal.

“Okay?” Dean mimics, brows shooting high on his forehead, wondering how Castiel could even ask such a thing. How he can doubt Dean’s deep seeded need to have him constantly by his side? Or not know how he languished in misery, night after endless night, year after heartbreaking year, the pain never lessening, because of how deeply in-love Dean was, and still is with the older man.

“You already know the answer to that, Cas.” He finally answers, bunching Castiel’s collar in his fists and pulling him in for a crushing embrace. “Having you near me,” he murmurs against Castiel’s cheek, an impassioned declaration. “Seeing you every goddamn day…” he swears, running his hands up and down his uncle’s sides. “That right there, is the best damn news I’ve ever heard.” He pulls back for a kiss and holding Castiel’s gaze, whispers, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

And now, with the air between them completely cleared, all misunderstandings set to rights and both firmly on the same page, they lunge.

They grab for each other, a frantic race, clambering aggressively for a foothold, hands making quick work to rid the other of his shirt, to unfasten belts, to yank down pants, until the thin cotton of their briefs is the only thing separating them from complete nudity.

Dean pushes Castiel against the room’s wall and drops to his knees, hands braced against his uncle’s thighs. “Fucking gorgeous, Cas.” He sighs, hungrily ogling the large prize in front of him, mouth open when he leans forward to kiss it.

“Mmpht! Dean!” Castiel moans head falling back and hitting the wall, hips jerking when he feels his nephew’s hot breath ghost over his clothed erection, letting loose an endless string of praise when Dean mouths over his briefs and sucks wetly over the obvious outline of his cock, soaking the fabric.

Dean hums deep and throaty, greatly satisfied with his uncle’s enthusiastic reactions, reaching down to snake his own dick from his shorts, pulling it out and leaving it to hang hot and heavy over his underwear’s waistband.

“F-fuck…” Castiel hisses, his whole body shuddering with pleasure when Dean pries open his brief’s fly and gently pulls out his cock, immediately fastening his lips on the tip and curling his tongue around the shaft, taking all of Castiel’s length until his lips are stretched obscenely wide and flush against the fabric’s edge.

Castiel looks down and groans, the explicit sight of his cock slipping in and out between his nephew’s stretched lips is enough to hasten his climax. “Dean…stop…” he croaks, begs, raking his fingers through the teen’s hair and coaxing him off.

“You’re so beautiful…so perfect.” Castiel says with more than a touch of reverence, helping Dean up and holding him tightly while he showers his face with kisses, growling low and rumbly when he tastes himself on Dean’s tongue.

Dean’s putty in his hands and Castiel easily steers him towards his bed, turning them around so that he can scoot towards the top, and with his back to the headboard, maneuvers Dean until he has a lapful of teenager.

“Mmm…Cas…” Dean sighs, lips mouthing the words against his uncle’s neck, sitting up on his knees and wrapping his arms around Castiel’s shoulders, huffing little sounds of pleasure when Castiel begins to prep his entrance.

“Fuck…yeah, just…ah…just like that…” he moans, words breaking with the addition of more fingers.

Dean fucks himself on Castiel’s fingers until the need for more becomes urgent. “More…m’ready.” He groans and with a nod from the older man, reaches down between them to take his uncle’s cock. He positions the blunt end against his hole and eases down, briefly recoiling from the exquisite pain, inhaling short panicked gasps until his body adjusts around the overlarge girth.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks softly, pressing their foreheads together, tongue poking out to swipe wetly across the teen’s mouth.

“Mm…good.” Dean huffs and means it, slowly rising to his knees before slinking back down with more confidence, the pain replaced with a pleasurable ache. He rides Castiel, impaling himself with more fervor the more his body relaxes, welcoming the stretch, basking in the burn, all the while kissing, open mouth, slow and sensual, trading breaths, sharing their mingled flavors, drowning in each other.

Castiel’s lightheaded, feels like he’s flying, completely surrounded by Dean, closing his teeth around the teen’s throat and savoring the salt-tang of his sweat-slicked skin, licking a path down his sternum, teeth grazing a nipple, sucking on the sensitive flesh, rolling it between his teeth until it’s diamond hard.

But it’s not enough and he wants more, wants to go deeper and fuck his nephew harder, tear him apart with this cock and fill him with his cum, marking him, until Dean’s saturated and leaking freely. “Dean…” he pants, eyes wild, teeth bared. He picks his nephew up by the ass-cheeks and lets him drop, back first, onto the bed.

“Ooompt! Fuck, Cas.” Dean grunts on impact and recognizing the aching want in Castiel’s gaze, spreads his legs wider, like an offering, ripe and perfect for his imperfect god.

Castiel growls appreciatively and shuffles closer, slotting into the vee of his nephew’s spread thighs and mounts him. “Open your mouth.” Castiel says softly leaning heavily over the teen, his weight forcing Dean’s knees up to his chest, folding him in half, and kisses him.

Dean kisses back, desperate, rough and aggressive, crying out sharply when his uncle reenters him in one swift slide.

“So…so good, good for me…” Castiel pants, ramming hard and fast into Dean’s fucked out hole.

“Mmmmpht…fuck…yeah, come on…harder…” Dean goads, hips pistoning, meeting Castiel thrust for thrust. “Guhhh…” he gasps, the new angle allowing Castile to hit his prostate with exquisite precision.

Dean knows he's close, the weight of his orgasm low and heavy in his belly. Toes curling when Castiel grabs his dick, cursing, soft and needy cries muffled against his uncle’s shoulder. “Please…” he chokes out after another precise hit to his prostate. “Cumming!” he warns, out of breath, and spills, mind whiting out from the intensity.

It’s the most beautiful thing Castiel has ever seen, Dean writhing, climaxing, coating their bodies with his semen. Castiel licks his lips, eyes fixed on Dean’s, and cums, body shuddering, hips stuttering, cock pulsing, pumping Dean full of his release.

…

“Dean, I can feel you thinking.” Castiel says in a low voice, murmuring the words against the teen’s temple.

They’re still in Castiel’s bed, Dean draped over the older man, limbs loose and heavy from their climax, ruined sheets wrapped carelessly over their naked bodies.

“Hm?”

Castiel angles his neck for a better look at his nephew’s face. “Don’t ‘hm’ me. I thought we agreed no more holding back.” He resettles into his previous position, chin resting on top of Dean’s head, fingers caressing Dean’s shoulder. “No more secrets, right.”

Dean shifts until he’s lying on his belly and props himself on his elbows. He doesn’t reply immediately, instead takes a moment to carefully consider his thoughts and how to express them. “It’s just…” he starts haltingly, forcing himself to stay focused and not get lost in one of their epic staring contests. All of that _‘gazing deeply and meaningfully into each other’s eyes to communicate without words’_ or such shit, never worked for them before, and if they really are going to do this the right way, then he’s going to go for the honest, _verbal_ , approach.

_God help him._

“I-“ he swallows, trying to moisten his suddenly parched throat. “I can’t believe this is really happening. I mean, fuck, Cas, you,” he jabs a finger against Castiel’s chest. “Me, us, this…like it’s a real thing. You and me, we’re gonna be a couple.”

“Yes and no, Dean.” Castiel says, and of course doesn’t bother to elaborate any further, leveling Dean instead with his damn expressive and intense-as-hell gaze.

But after a too long period of actually _not_ speaking, Dean bites back a smirk and prods him.

“Yeah, okay, so care to share with the rest of the class?”

“Oh, of course, my apologies. What I meant to say is that yes, you and I are now a couple, because this, what we have here, what I hope to build with you, is…real. However,” this time instead of just his unwavering gaze, he adds weight to his words by cupping Dean’s jaw. “And I cannot stress this enough, we must, for both of our sakes, keep this a secret. Do you understand?”

“Understand? What, like you’re embarrassed of me or something?”

Castiel huffs and looks up, about as dramatic an eye roll as Dean’s ever seen from him. “Dean, no, of course not.” he answers. “You know better than to think that. Think, Dean. One, you are still a minor-“

“I’ll be eighteen in seven months!” Dean immediately supplies.

“Yes, but until then, still a minor. But that’s not the most serious strike against our…bond, Dean. We’re related. And if your parents find-“

Dean jumps in and again interrupts Castiel, but this time along with his argument, adds a large smug grin. “Cas, you know that’s not entirely true. Hm? Dude, did you forget that you’re adopted, duh! We’re not blood relatives. So no excuses, once I’m of age, I’m allowed to show you off and-“

“Dean, I want this as much, if not more so, than you. But I’m not as confident as you are in your parents acceptance to our…new status.”

“Pfffst,” the teen scoffs and to emphasize his casual attitude towards their ‘dilemma’, leans over to plant a kiss on his uncle’s nose. “Look, I’m done hiding, okay. No more secrets, no more lying. I’m telling mom and dad as soon as I’m old enough.” He explains matter-of-fact. “And, well, I really don’t give a shit about anybody else. Except for Sam and Adam, of course, but I’m sure they’ll be fine with this. So…” he leans forward, eyes wide and tone serious. “Do we understand each other here? Because whether you like it or not, we’re gonna be a legitimate couple and no one, not even you, will be able-“

Castiel leaps on his nephew (on his Dean, _his_ Dean) urging the teen’s tongue into his mouth in an effort to distract him and hopefully put an end to Dean’s endless stream of complaints and arguments on their current state of affairs. And even though Castiel is not entirely comfortable with Dean’s justifications, at least for the moment, he is more than willing to adjust and adapt if it means keeping Dean safe and happy.

“So, guess we better get used to this, huh?” Dean adds once they break for air.

“Yes…to this,” Castiel readily agrees. “And to this,” he adds cupping Dean’s burgeoning erection. “And this,” he continues, and climbs on top of the teen, falling neatly between his thighs. “And-“ he stops short, point already perfectly clear when Dean takes his cock and guides it between his cheeks, where it slips effortlessly into his still-stretched-hole with a delicious roll from Castiel’s hips.

…

Afterwards, while still basking in the afterglow of their mutual satisfaction, the two newly minted lovers discuss their future in earnest.

They talk about what they’ll do upon John and Mary’s return, about Castiel putting his apartment up for sale now that Dean’s given him his blessing, and on how to approach Sam and Adam. But most worrisome, and something they discuss in length, is their unavoidable separation when Castiel leaves and Dean stays behind to finish the rest of his school year, and how they’ll handle it.

But Dean’s not worried. Because even though he can’t wait until Castiel becomes a permanent fixture in his school and his life, they have the whole summer ahead of them, and the man _only_ lives an hour away, and for Dean it’s just another awesome excuse to drive his baby to visit his boyfriend.

So what started out as the worst week of Dean’s life quickly turned out to be the best ever. This _right_ _here and right now_ , with Castiel tucked tightly against him, all octopus limbs, hair tickling under Dean’s nose, and the promise of a real future together, is more than Dean ever hoped for, and everything he always wanted. 

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this the other day when 'UNCLE BUCK' was on cable. So yeah, I basically took a sweet story about a down and out uncle helping his family and twisted it into a sort-of-incestuous tale, urgh, I need help!  
> ^_-


End file.
